Knights Consort
by Cyclone
Summary: In most fairy tales, the dashing knight gets the princess, but sometimes, it's a liiittle more complicated than that. Who's the knight? And princesses are in short supply.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Knights Consort (1/?)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at u/62966 or ~cyclone

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: In most fairy tales, the dashing knight gets the princess, but sometimes, it's a liiittle more complicated than that. Who's the knight? And princesses are in short supply.

Author's Note: Nothing much to say here.

* * *

I watch them dance.

Willow's on drink duty right now - not to mention trying to get Buffy out of her funk - leaving me to watch them dance. They look like they walked right out of a fairy tale.

Okay, granted, it would be a fairy tale closer to Grimm than Disney, but the point stands.

We live in a world of fairy tales. Every little kid knows that monsters exist, but fairy tales teach them that monsters can be slain. And then we grow up, and we forget that fairy tales are real, that monsters are real and need to be slain.

But until then, every little kid dreams of a monster and a princess and a dashing knight coming to slay the monster, save the princess, and sweep her off her feet. A lot of people never really grow out of that, even as they forget that the monsters are real. The difference is, a typical little girl wants to be the princess, while a typical little boy wants to be the dashing knight.

I was never a typical little girl. Since I was little, around five years old, I wanted to _be_ the hero, not be rescued by one. I didn't want to be a princess. I didn't want some dashing knight to come sweep me off my feet. If anyone was getting swept off her feet, I wanted to be the one doing the sweeping.

Nowadays? Now, I'm living my dream. I _am_ a hero, superpowers and all, and I slay the monsters, though princesses are hard to find these days. But not before I met the dashing knight I never wanted.

This is all so goddamn confusing! Don't get me wrong - I love Willow, and nothing's going to change that - but...

...but how do you deal with someone who saves your life, gives up an eye for you, and then insists on acting like it doesn't matter?

There are times I want to strangle that man. Not literally, of course, but he can be so frustrating! And it's not like I can just take a break, get away from him, and sort this all out.

Why not?

Well, where he goes, Willow and I go. Willow because, well, he's her Xander, and she's his Willow, and that's that. I get that.

I do! I'm _not_ jealous.

But me? That's a bit harder to explain. Everyone thinks I go because of Willow, but that's not exactly true. You see, he keeps volunteering for all these Slayer meet-and-greets, and I have to keep an eye on him because...

Well, I've seen him fight. He has a bad habit of trying to get himself killed. And if there's even a _hint_ of something hinky going on, he'll go off-mission to Do The Right Thing. Which invariably translates to an incredibly elaborate and convoluted attempt at suicide-by-demon.

Still, this new thing he's got going with Dawn, maybe he'll finally settle down, take a desk job for once, get out of the line of fire. I'm glad.

Really. I am.

I mean, he deserves a little happiness, and I owe him a lot. My life, his eye, my Willow... well, _his_ Willow, really...

No, I'm _not_ jealous.

He doesn't see it that way, that I owe him, but I do, and I can't help feeling...

Something. Grateful? Yeah. Grateful. We'll go with that.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Yes, I went there.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Knights Consort (2/?)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.

Rating: Just a little bad language.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: In most fairy tales, the dashing knight gets the princess, but sometimes, it's a liiittle more complicated than that. Who's the knight? And princesses are in short supply.

Author's Note: Nothing much to say here.

* * *

I broke up with Willow.

I didn't want to, and God knows it's not because I don't love her.

It's because she doesn't love me.

No matter how much I love her, no matter how hard she tries, I am and will always be Rebound Girl.

And that's why me and her - us - just wasn't going to work. She was trying, so hard, but we were still drifting apart. I could feel her slipping through my fingers, and it was killing me.

She wouldn't end it. She _couldn't_ end it. She was so desperate to make us work, and not just because of me either. Because of Xander too.

More specifically, his eye. For all her bookishness, Willow's a very emotional person, and there's an irrational part of her that feels guilty, that thinks him losing his eye was less because he was saving me and more because he was saving _us_, and she didn't want him to have made that sacrifice in vain.

So I had to do it, or we'd keep clinging to each other, trying to build a house on sand, until the whole thing collapsed. Until she resented it. Until she hated me.

Until she hated both of us.

I don't think I could live with that, and I _know_ Xander couldn't.

He went to her, of course - which hurts, since it's my heart getting broken - but I think he understands.

Hmm. Someone's knocking on my door. Better go see who that is.

"Dawn?" Not who I was expecting. I wasn't sure _who_ I was expecting, actually, but it wasn't her.

"Hey," she says. "Just checking to see how you're doing."

"I'm fine," I lie.

"Bullshit," she snorts.

I don't respond.

"I get why you did it," she says gently. "I understand a hell of a lot better than you think I do. We know you're hurting right now, and he - we - don't want you to be alone right now. Xander can't be here, so here I am."

Huh. Didn't think the happy couple would think of me. After all, I may be a Sunnydale Survivor, but I'm still not an Original Scoob.

Shows what I know.


End file.
